


Gold Glover

by Yadirocks



Series: To Play Like a Cardinal [2]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5139881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yadirocks/pseuds/Yadirocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This shouldn't really be a new thing, the handing out of the Gold Gloves, the big ceremony, the fake smile that they were expected to show so that the entire baseball world wouldn't say they took it for granted. Yadier had been there, done that, eight years in a row. So what should make this time different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold Glover

"Congrats, Yadi!"

"Way to be, Molina!"

"Keep doing what you're doing!"

It was the same old compliments that came with winning the Gold Glove and Platinum Glove. Yadier despised them. He knew that they had good intentions behind them, and that the people who spoke them did not know it bothered him. Still, every time he heard someone congratulate him, Yadier faked a smile and thanked them.

It wasn't that Yadier wasn't grateful. It was an honor to be the owner of his eighth consecutive Gold Glove and his fourth Platinum Glove, awards difficult for anyone to win, let alone eight years in a row. At this point, however, Yadier felt like he could do better than he had done the year before, that he didn't deserve to win as much as the others. He had made some friends and some enemies and had earned some respect from winning these awards. It wasn't his fault that most of the awards given out by these big-name companies were basically a popularity contest.

Of course, his teammates didn't seem to know that. "Come on, Yadi, don't be so down in the dumps. You won that award fair and square!" Michael Wacha said with his mouth full of his chicken sandwich. Yadier sighed. "Chew before you speak, Mikey, I don't want to see your food."

Michael rolled his eyes, but the next time he spoke, he swallowed first. "I don't get why you think these things are nothing to celebrate about," Michael grumbled. "If I won the Gold Glove, I'd be ecstatic, and if I won the Platinum Glove, I'd faint. You'd have to catch me because I would fall straight down to the ground. It's a big deal, Yadi."

"I know it's a big deal," Yadier said, staring down at his own sandwich. He wasn't very interested in eating it right now. "I just think it's a popularity contest. I don't want to be remembered as the guy who won all these awards just because of my name, Mikey."

Adam Wainwright hadn't said a word the entire time. He'd been silent, listening to Michael trying to talk some sense into the catcher. Adam smacked Yadier's shoulder to make Yadier realize that Adam still stood beside him. "Listen to me, Molina," Adam said commadingly. "You won that Gold Glove and that Platinum Glove because you are the best catcher anyone has ever seen. And if that means that people respect who you are because you are the best catcher, then maybe it should be that way. You have a good reputation. You should be happy and not feeling sorry for yourself."

It was silent. The only sound was Michael chewing the last of his sandwich, watching both closely, as if ready to witness if a fight broke out. Adam loved Yadier like a brother, but he wasn't going to let him mope about winning an award. Anyone else would've been excited, and he thought it selfish of Yadier to be unhappy.

Yadier sighed, leaning his head back. "I don't want people to associate my name with all of this popularity stuff," Yadier whispered. "I just want to be me. Is that too much to ask?'

With that, he stood and stomped away, anger emanating off of him. Michael watched him go, but Adam continued to stare out at the green grass of the outfield. "Do you think that maybe this has something to do with...you know...?"

Adam didn't answer. He instead leaned back against the dugout wall, crossing his arms over his midsection. Michael stood up. "I mean, he has to get over it at some point, right? Not to be rude, but it's been eight years."

Adam suddenly snapped, "If your father died right before you got the news that you finally won what you'd been dreaming of your entire life, something you had been dreaming of showing him and making him proud, you'd probably never get over it either, Mikey."

Michael went silent once again, this time his face pale. After a long silence, he whispered, "I hadn't thought about it like that."

When Adam straightened and began to walk towards the bullpen, Michael didn't question where he was going or why. He simply stood there in his hoodie, staring at the sunlight banking off the Arch, lost in thought.

Adam approached the bullpen, hearing movement and a few grunts of pain as he stepped inside. Tony Cruz was reluctantly speeding up the pitching machine as Yadier yelled, "Harder!"

Sweat was pouring down Yadier's face, his limbs shaking already, but determination was set in his eyes. Tony wasn't so determined. "I don't think I should-" he began, but Yadier said, "Do it, Tony. I need to be faster."

Tony glanced at Adam, who he had just noticed was in the bullpen. He gave him a pleading look for help, but Adam just sat on the bench to watch. The catcher was hard-nosed, but if Yadier wanted to wear himself out before he broke down, Adam was going to let him. If that was how Yadier planned to solve what was really bothering him, Adam was going to wait until the plan failed.

Tony sighed, setting the machine to throw change ups at 89 miles per hour. Yadier blocked each one, his breathing coming in sharp gasps, his legs shaking each time he went down, bruises from the ball hitting his arms beginning to paint his forearms. Adam made Tony stop the machine when Yadier was shaking and coughing. 

"Too cold out here to be doing so much, Yadi," Adam whispered as he knelt next to Yadier. Yadier shook his head. "Tell him to turn the machine back on," he said, though when he went to get back into his squatting position, he was off-balance and nearly fell onto his face. Adam caught him as he fell forward, helping his friend up and onto shaking legs. "You're freezing," Adam noted when he grabbed Yadier's arm and lead him into the clubhouse. 

"I need to be faster, Adam. I need to work harder," Yadier said, but Adam merely rolled his eyes. "You are already fast and you already work too hard. You can't be doing so much work in the cold, you'll cramp up. You know that."

Yadier didn't protest when Adam plopped him down on the couch in the clubhouse, nor when Adam wrapped him in a blanket to help calm his shivers. Adam turned on the heater that they used when it was October and players from the bullpen would come in to warm their numb fingers.

Yadier didn't speak, even when Adam handed him a cup of hot chocolate and sat beside him. He stared at the swirls the whipped cream had made in the liquid, but didn't even move the drink to his lips. "You think I'm being ungrateful," Yadier whispered.

Adam shrugged. "When you complain about winning, then yes. There was nothing you could do to stop them from choosing you, Yadier. You earned it."

"No, I didn't," Yadier insisted, but Adam dismissed this remark. "Yadier, I know why you don't like it when people tell you that this award is a big deal."

Yadier's expression changed from anger to sadness. Adam took the cup of cocoa from his shaking hands so that the drink wouldn't slosh and burn the catcher. "He would be proud of you, Yadier."

Tears filled those brown eyes, but they closed before Adam could see them. "How do you know?" he asked shakily.

Adam put his hand on Yadier's shoulder. "He loved you," Adam said. "He would never be disappointed with you, Yadier. You're sad because everyone around you keeps telling you how proud they are but you can't hear it from the one who matters most."

The tears fell from his closed eyelids. Adam squeezed Yadier's shoulder. "He was so proud of you, Yadier. And I'm certain he would be proud of what you've done since."

Adam pulled Yadier into an embrace. Yadier sniffed, crying noiselessly into Adam's shoulder. Yadier pulled away after a few minutes, coughing into his arm. "I hope you're not coming down with something," Adam said, handing Yadier a tissue. Yadier sighed, closing his eyes.

"You're already not feeling well, are you?" Adam asked. Yadier gave him a small smile in response. Adam smiled back, before saying, "You should rest if you're not feeling well. You might make Mike mad if he finds out that you're not well and you didn't tell him."

Yadier rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Adam. I don't need to rest."

Adam sighed at the stubbornness of the catcher. "Fine, then at least drink your hot chocolate before you go back out and catch frostbite or pneumonia."

When Adam returned to take Yadier's mug, he smiled when he saw that the catcher had fallen asleep sitting up. Adam took the mug from his lax fingers and gently eased Yadier back so he was laying down. He found a thick blanket in a cabinet nearby and laid it over Yadier, taking off his cleats so he would be more comfortable. He lifted Yadier's head and placed a pillow beneath it. "Sweet dreams," Adam whispered, patting Yadier's back. Before he left, he leaned down and whispered, "It may not mean much, but I'm proud of you."


End file.
